Getting to the Mustard
by Amy Elizabeth
Summary: Remus has instigated open flirting.
1. Chapter 1

**Getting to the Mustard**

******By: **Amy Elizabeth

**Disclaimer: **Don't own 'em.

**Rating: **Eh, PG

**A/N: **First time back in 2 years. This has been rattling around for a long time.

Nymphadora Tonks found herself reeling. Though, for a change, it was not because she had fallen. It had to do with heat. Body Heat. Remus Body Heat. She could still feel the tingling where his hand had just been.

Glancing around the Burrow, which was presently filled with members of the Order milling about eating and talking, she carefully set down her plate of food, as not to spill it down herself.

Remus had just touched her. Though, this, in itself, was not much of a development. They touched all the time. In fact, Tonks often made it a point to casually brush against Remus in the narrow hallways of Headquarters or to linger just a little too long grasping his hands when he helped her off the floor. And, until she could gather the courage to just tackle him and kiss him senseless, these things had to do. Each time she wondered if he felt the little jolt she did; that little bit of breathlessness that even such casual contact can inspire when you were as devastatingly attracted to someone as Tonks was to Remus. But those touches were just that, casual; casual and innocent, and the little jolts that they gave were nothing compared to this total destruction of all equilibrium and cohesion that she felt now.

_Calm down, _she chastised herself. _He just needed to get past you to get the mustard. Its not like he pushed you against the wall in a fit of unbridled passion. _

She grabbed at the edge of the table; that image didn't help the reeling.

Leaning, she hoped casually, against the table, Tonks took a slow drink of her butterbeer. So maybe Remus hadn't pushed her up against the wall, declaring his attraction to her in a very blunt way, but something big had just happened, she was sure of it. Something had changed in their relationship and she dared to hope it was a step in the right direction. After all, there were a million other ways to touch someone than how he just had.

Most obviously, there was a touch on the shoulder. Tapping a person on the shoulder was benign. One could tap a stranger in the lift to get past them and get the same response as they would if they tapped their mother. In fact, Tonks had tapped Molly on the shoulder this evening to ask if she could help set out food for the party.

Molly had turned her down, of course, but that was beside the point.

No one got worked up by a shoulder tap.

There was the thump on the back. It was a jovial, friendly gesture between people who knew each other. It could range from a warm greeting to a well-meaning ribbing. She had given Mad-Eye a good whack a few minutes ago. She found that doing that annoyed him enough that he tended to forget what exactly she had been teasing him about in the first place.

It was useful but definitely not a sensual experience.

A _hand _on the back meant something else entirely. Her father often rested his hand on her upper back when giving her advice or shepherding her away from an argument with her mother. A hand on the upper back was supportive, a signal of a close relationship.

In a familial sort of way.

A hand on the lower back was a bit more intimate, a guiding, occasionally possessive move. Tonks had watched several couples walk through parties, stores, and streets like that. In fact, she had often wondered about how lovely it would be to find Remus's hand on _her_ lower back.

Though, while she would have found a hand on the lower back very exciting a few minutes ago, it was now not necessarily the _most_ exciting touch.

No, the most exciting was Remus's hand sliding slowly across her lower back to rest lightly against her hip before gently pressing to move her over a few inches. He had leaned in, close; she had been able to feel his breath on her neck, while his arm extended past her to grab the mustard on the table around her. His forearm had drug along the side of her waist as he retracted his arm.

Hip touching. What did hip touching mean?

Placing her butterbeer beside her plate she glanced over at Remus. Settling comfortably into one of the armchairs, he looked perfectly at ease as he started talking with Arthur about Muggle matches. Perfectly at ease. Maddeningly at ease.

But surely he had known what he was doing. He had touched her bloody hip, for crying out loud, and that was a fairly suggestive move in Tonks' book. You don't touch your mother's hip, your friend's hip. Hips were a no-go in most day-to-day situations. In fact, to go from bumps in hallways to caressing hips fairly screamed '_I want you too'. _

After all, he could have just said '_excuse me'._

Right?

"Tonks, dear, are you alright? You look rather flushed." Molly Weasley, carrying in yet another dish of food, suddenly swam into focus.

"Yes, I'm…fine. Just a little…I'm fine." Willing herself to keep steady, Tonks picked up her fork and flashed Molly a quick smile, "Thank you though."

"Of course, dear." She placed the large bowl on the table, "You just looked a little shell shocked. I was a bit afraid you were about to fall over."

She gave a motherly smile as she bustled away. Glancing to see who else might have noticed her distress, Tonks caught the Remus's eye across the room. The shy smirk on his face told her he had heard the whole exchange. Heard the whole exchange and was amused by it.

She felt her cheeks flush and grabbed the table again. The hip touch had not been on accident. He had wanted to get her flustered and was enjoying his success. Something big had happened indeed.

Ignoring the mischievous glint in his eyes as he watched her, Tonks popped a piece of bread into her mouth and smiled to herself. Remus had just instigated open flirting and clearly this was how the game was going to go. Well, she could fluster someone just as well as he.

Taking another long drink of her butterbeer she wondered how he would respond to a firm slap on the butt.


	2. Chapter 2

**Getting to the Mustard: Part 2**

**Amy Elizabeth**

**Rating: **Eh, PG again

**Disclaimer: **All things _Harry Potter _are the sole property of J.K. Rowling.

**A/N: **I've wanted to try the butt-smack. I mean, why not?:) Thank you to everyone for the wonderful reviews!

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Nymphadora Tonks had been waiting for this moment.

Walking less than an arms reach behind Remus Lupin, she glanced around to double check that they were alone in the hallway. Most of the Order had already made their way into the kitchen for dinner, but there was always the chance of a straggler.

And nothing would be more embarrassing than having one of the kids catch what she was about to do.

She had been through several options in the past few days in her quest to return Remus' "flirting" from the other night.

The casual laying of her hand on top of his… Not exciting enough. Accidentally sitting in his lap… Too exciting.

No, this was the perfect mix. Enough to send her signal without fear that he would somehow miss it but not so much that he would have to respond right away. She wanted him to be as flustered and, she hoped, as intrigued as she had been. And, if she were to be honest, despite her growing confidence that he returned her feelings, she would prefer not to have him turn her down right then and there if she was somehow wrong.

So she would smack his rear and run.

She glanced down, trying to ignore how very nice of a target it was, and judged the distance between them. Her palm a nice, flat paddle, Tonks braced herself; it was time. They were almost at the door to the kitchen and she had to be ready to walk past him as soon as she made contact.

_We'll see how much he likes it when the tables are turned. _Pulling her hand back, Tonks took one deep breath, started the follow through…

And then froze as the door suddenly swung open.

"We're starting to dish up if you…" Arthur Weasley's sentence trailed into silence.

Time seemed to slow as Tonks realized Arthur was looking at her. More specifically, he was looking at her hand.

Her hand.

Her hand that was touching Remus' rear-end.

_Oh dear Merlin. _

Sharply pulling her hand back, she swallowed hard, "On our way in right now!" Her voice was up far too many octaves.

"Yes, Arthur, we'll be right in." His voice was unnaturally calm.

Arthur looked about as embarrassed as Tonks felt, "Right then, Molly just wanted to make sure…" Turning to the door, he made a hasty retreat, "I'll just head back in and tell her."

He was gone even quicker than he came and Tonks was alone with Remus in the hallway once more. Tucking her hands safely into her pockets, she glanced towards the ceiling, offering up a silent prayer.

_Please just keep walking._

She glanced back down as Remus turned to face her, completely unsurprised that her prayer had been ignored. Judging by the little smirk she saw playing at the corners of his mouth, he seemed a little amused, at least. Unfortunately, he also looked expectant.

_Why in the name of Merlin do things always go so terribly wrong?_

Trying to moisten her mouth enough to get words out, she attempted to explain, "I…um…you see, I was just…you…."

He held a hand up, quieting her stammering. Extending his arm towards the door, he gave her his most charming smile, his eyes mischievous, "Ladies first."

Once again he managed to have her flustered. About to concede her defeat, a hot, burning sensation suddenly coursed through her. For once, it wasn't embarrassment. It was resolve.

_Oh, what the hell…_

Mustering up a return smile she gave a little nod and started to move past him. At the last second she flattened her hand, reached around, and smacked.

Pulling her hand back, she smirked, "There, that was much better."

Tasting her victory, she risked a quick glance back at his shocked expression as she pushed through the door, leaving him standing in the hallway.

Dinner was going to be fun tonight.


	3. Chapter 3

**Getting to the Mustard 3**

**By: **Amy Elizabeth

**Rating: **K

**Disclaimer: **Characters, spells, location, ect = JK Rowling

**A/N: **Well, I suppose this might be more of an…interlude. However, thank you so much to everyone that has expressed interest in this piece. It is becoming much more than I anticipated. Hope this chapter (whoa, when did this become chapters?) was worth the wait.

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The top of the stairs on the first floor of Grimmauld Place was fast becoming the most popular location in the house.

Oddly, it was also the most silent.

As pieces of one biscuit collected around the edge of Ron's mouth, he reached into the tin to grab another. Not bothering to pause when his sister sent him a glare across the landing of the stairs, he leaned closer to the fleshy knob his twin brothers held between them.

A hissing whisper, breaking the silence, caused them all to jump a little, "Ron! We can't hear over your bloody eating! Can you just stop stuffing your face for one…"

Shoving another biscuit into his mouth, Ron rolled his eyes, "You're just mad, Ginny, because I won't give you one."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously, "You are such a…"

"Shut up, you two! They're talking again." Fred held the end of the Extendable Ear closer to his own.

After dinner Ron and the rest of the underage wizards and witches in Headquarters had been sent from the kitchen while the Order held a meeting. Of course that only meant they had relocated to the top of the steps and continued trying to listen in on whatever they could catch. They had been doing this all summer but after weeks of listening to bits and pieces of Order meetings they had been able to gather very, very little information. Well, very little about anything important. Some bits made sense, Death Eater's names and talk of whom they were recruiting, but otherwise they talked about a lot in frustratingly vague terms. Like something they kept calling "guard duty"; even Hermione hadn't been able to figure out what they were guarding yet.

"I can't hear." Leaning closer to Fred, Ron strained to hear the faint voice coming through the speaker. His fingers closed over another biscuit.

"If you'd stop chewing…"

Remus Lupin's voice suddenly cut Ginny off, much louder than it had been moments before, "_Molly, I am afraid I will not be able to stay for dessert. I have…a pressing matter to attend to." _

"I've been working on a charm to amplify the sound from the Ears…It won't be much help if they catch us and start using a Imperturbable Charm but for now…" Hermione murmured as they all looked from the Ear to her drawn wand. She blushed a little, though Ron knew it was probably more from satisfaction than modesty. Still, deciding that maybe she _did_ deserve a little recognition, he pulled another biscuit from the tin.

"Blimey, Hermione, that was pretty brilliant." He extended the biscuit towards her, "Would you like a…"

"Quiet, Ronald!"

_Never mind then, I'll eat it myself. _ He yanked his hand back and shoved the biscuit in his mouth.

"_And what 'pressing matter' would that be, Remus?" _The voice of Harry's godfather floated from the Ear, " _I don't seem to remember you having any Order business this evening." _

"_It's nothing that concerns you, Sirius." _Suddenly chair legs scraped the kitchen floor, _ "Good evening, everyone." _

A chorus of responses echoed behind the retreating footsteps.

"Quick! Pull up the Ear, Fred!" Ginny tugged at her brother's arm, "If Professor Lupin sees it he'll have to take it away. Mum made them all promise."

Soon enough the footsteps grew loud enough to be heard without the aid of the Ear as Fred yanked it up and out of sight. Ron swallowed the last of the biscuit in his mouth and turned to follow the others as they retreated towards the open bedroom door near the top of the stairs.

"Wait!" Hermione's hushed voice stopped them in their tracks as she leaned to peer over the railing, being careful to stay in the shadows, "Look there. What do you think he's writing?"

Following her pointed finger, they slowly returned to the edge of the stairs. Ron ducked under George's arm to get a better look.

"Ron! Watch it! You stepped on my hand!" Ginny hissed up at him.

"Quiet!" George kneed Ron in the back to emphasize his point before he could make a retort back. However, their interruption hadn't seemed to bother their former professor on the floor below. Instead, Lupin was indeed busy finishing scrawling a short message onto a piece of parchment. Folding it neatly, he placed it in the pocket of one of the cloaks hanging by the entrance of Grimmauld Place, and slipped out the front door.

Once the door shut Ron turned back to his brother, "Good, he didn't see us, now lower the Ear back down, we're missing stuff."

Hermione pinned him with her most disbelieving look, "Ron, aren't you the least bit curious what that note was about?"

"I bet it would explain that pressing matter he mentioned in the meeting." George looked down at the otherwise inconspicuous black cloak that now contained the mysterious letter.

"I wonder who that cloak belongs to." Hermione reached towards the railing to make her way downstairs.

Ron's mouth dropped, "Really, Hermione? You're going to rifle through someone else's cloak to read a private message?"

She had the good sense to look abashed, "Well, I just…"

"Oh, come off it, Ron." Ginny stood up quickly, almost knocking Ron off balance. "We're already eavesdropping on meetings, this might be important." She moved past Hermione down the first few stairs, "Besides, no one will know."

Hermione grimaced, "I hate to admit this, but maybe Ron is right." She ignored Ron's huff of exasperation, "This might be something Professor Lupin wanted to keep private."

Ginny paused almost halfway down the stairs, "Alright, we'll take a vote. Who thinks I should read the message?" She looked back at the small group still up on the landing, "Show of hands."

Looking behind him at Fred and George, who had both raised their hands, Ron slowly raised his own.

Hermione looked furious, "Ron! You just said you thought this was a bad idea."

"I never said that," he shrugged, "besides, as much as _I _hate to admit it, maybe _you_ were right…"

Hermione stuttered in frustration, "Ron, you are just trying to be difficult."

"Both of you- shut it." Ginny had turned back down the stairs, "Four to one. You're out-voted, Hermione, sorry."

"Wait, I never voted not to…" Hermione's protest was stopped short by the sound of the kitchen door swinging open. Ginny froze, now caught at the bottom of the stairs, as everyone else scurried back to relative safety.

"Remus?" Nymphadora Tonks' voiced accompanied the shutting of the door, "Remus? Are you still here?" Rounding the staircase in a near run, Tonks almost slammed into a still frozen Ginny. "Oh! Ginny! Sorry! I was just…" Tonks peered around her towards the cloaks by the door, "Have you seen Remus?"

With a start Ginny followed her gaze, "No, I was just coming down to," Ginny glanced back up at the top of the stairs, "To see if…if dessert was ready."

Tonks' brow furrowed as she continued to look around, distracted. "Oh, well, yea, I think so. I mean, the meeting is over, so I'm sure you can all go in now."

"Oh great. I'll just, um, let everyone know." Ginny paused, uncertain, "Uh, Everyone!" She shouted up the stairs, "Dessert!"

If Tonks noticed the sudden appearance of four previously hidden heads peaking around the corner, she gave no sign. Instead, she only mumbled something about not waking Mrs. Black as she grabbed the same black cloak Ginny had been headed towards only moments before.

Ginny opened her mouth to thanks Tonks as the older woman suddenly turned away. Saying nothing to the students now gathered around the base of the staircase, Tonks slipped on the cloak and left into the square.

Silence reigned in the hallway for only a second in her wake.

"He wrote _Tonks _a note?" Hermione stared at the now closed door, "What on earth could that have been about?"

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

It was an unseasonably chilly summer night. Wind whipped Nymphadora Tonks' hair around her face, but she was too distracted to morph it into a more practical style.

_Pressing matter? He couldn't have stayed to say _something_? _

She flexed her hand; noting that, oddly, she was still able to feel the shape of Remus' rear…

_Stop it, Tonks. That's not helping. _She chastised herself. _Besides, doesn't seem like it was such a good plan after all, does it? _

Only hours before, on her way into dinner, she had thought she had Remus Lupin right where she wanted him. She gave him a firm.... indication of how she felt and he had seemed…

What? Amused? Annoyed?

Now that she thought about it, his expression had betrayed very little. Maybe she had been wrong, maybe he didn't think about her the way that she had hoped. Nothing at dinner had indicated he appreciated her 'advances'. In fact, he appeared flustered, almost nervous, and then had disappeared the moment the meeting ended before she had a chance to…

_Bugger it. I've ruined it. _She shoved her hands into her pockets in frustration and began to walk to a secluded place to Apparate. _I've embarrassed myself by assuming he would be interested in… _She paused abruptly, her hand brushing against a foreign object in her pocket.

Pulling out a neatly folded piece of paper, she carefully turned it over in her hand.

Noticing nothing on the outside, she began to pull at the corner, "What on earth…"

Instantly, she recognized the neat scrawl on the paper.

_Tonks, _

_I certainly hope you will agree that we have a 'pressing matter' to discuss. And I do hope it will be as pleasant as the 'pressing' earlier this evening…I'm sorry, that was a rather poor attempt at humor. On a serious note, please send a Patronus if you are willing to meet with me._

_Remus_

Dropping the note to her side, she quickly glanced around and, noticing no one near, Apparated on the spot.


	4. Chapter 4

Getting to the Mustard 4

**By: **Amy Elizabeth

**Disclaimer: **I do not own characters/spells/ect…

**Rating:** Lets say a mild PG? It's been a long time since I was under 13 so….

**A/N: **Ok, whoa. Though I did not intend for this piece to go on so long—we'll call it an exercise in extending ideas. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed these pieces— I do believe this is the conclusion, thank you so much for dealing with my erratic posting—hope you like it!

PS. Bonus points to whoever gets the where the ending comes from. Not that bonus points from me mean anything

* * *

Keys were not Nymphadora Tonks' strong point.

Getting them untangled from the other things in her pocket, finding the right one, getting them into the lock- all of it was too much trouble when you were in a hurry.

Tonight, she was definitely in a hurry.

Fully frustrated after her third fumble, she darted looks to her left and right.

_Oh, no one is around. _

She pointed her wand discreetly at her flat's door. "_Alohomora_" she whispered. To her immense gratification, the lock clicked immediately. Pushing the door open fully she quickly tore off her traveling cloak, tossed it at the hook near the door, and flicked her wand at the lamp across the room.

Things were everywhere.

Losing only a moment to dismay, she made a quick list from just inside her doorway; old dishes had to go first, clothes second, then everything else could be pushed into a closet.

_I can do that in ten minutes. I hope. _

Either way, she would have to; because after that she was pretty sure Remus would be expecting the Patronus he mentioned in his message.

Ten minutes to clean up ten weeks of neglect. And that was a conservative estimate.

Springing into frantic action, her mind drifted to the hastily scrawled message currently burning a hole in her jean pocket.

_A pressing matter._

Grabbing a couple of her previously discarded plates, she tried to balance a bowl on top of a mug as she pointed her wand to a stack of _Daily Prophets, _which silently rose to follow.

_What could that mean? _

She used her foot to push one pile of clothes nearer to another as she moved towards her kitchen. She fought an urge to drop everything and pull the note out to re-evaluate. What was the bad joke he had made? Something about it being pleasant? Well, that at least boded well. Her lips started to quirk up into a little, hopeful smile before she spotted another stack of dishes, one she didn't have an extra hand for, and her mouth instead fell into a deep grimace. Ten minutes might be out of the question.

She paused, halfway to her kitchen, suddenly inspired._ He didn't specify that we were going to meet here_. _We could just go somewhere else. _

Immediately, her brow furrowed, "But where else could we meet?" She murmured aloud.

"Despite the mess, Nymphadora, I think this is a good a place as any."

A few painful moments later she could at least be thankful that the shattering dishes, flying _Prophets, _and the crashing of the small table she had upturned as she fell had mostly covered her shout of surprise at the unexpected voice.

Not a word of which had been ladylike.

Attempting to recover her dignity, Tonks, for possibly the first time, waved Remus' hands away as he tried to help her up from her prone position across her floor.

Unfortunately, this illusion of control was shattered as soon as she opened her mouth, "Wha...wh…ho…" No full word seemed to want to get out. Frustrated, she finally settled on mumbling, "Don't call me Nymphadora."

On the other hand, standing back in the doorframe of her kitchen, Remus Lupin seemed to be the picture of calm. "Sorry," though he didn't sound it one bit, "and sorry to startle you. I hope you're not hurt." He reached behind him and placed the kitchen towel she suddenly noticed he was holding behind him on her counter.

Finally struggling to her feet, her cheeks flamed red. _I hope to Merlin he wasn't doing my dishes. _Brushing a small bit of the broken plates aside with her foot, she opened her mouth to protest.

"_Reparo." _He murmured as he flicked his wand towards the pile of plates.

She averted her gaze from him to the pile of repaired plates, "Thank you." She glared back at him, "I suppose."

He grinned at her tone, "I _was_ going to wait for your Patronus but then I began to wonder if you would find the note and," he finally had the good grace to look a tad guilty, "I figured I would just come here and surprise you. Though I should have realized that was a potentially dangerous decision." Suddenly a smirk erased the guilty look on his face, "For you, at least."

"You insufferable…" she stopped, deciding to drop her complaint in favor of a more pressing question, "How the bloody hell did you get into my flat?" _Mad-Eye would have a field day with this. _

The small smile on his lips grew as he intoned, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

"What?"

"Never mind." Remus fell back a step into the kitchen, mostly disappearing from view,

"Would you like a drink?"

Her eyebrows shot up before she drew them together, "You're in _my _flat. I should be offering you a drink."

His voice floated from deeper in her kitchen, as he walked towards her fridge, "I know. I just figured you wouldn't." She heard a clinking of bottles, "Ah-hah, I hoped you would have a few of these." He reappeared in the doorway, extending a bottle of Butterbeer towards her.

She accepted, her brows still knit, "Uh, again, thank you, I suppose."

He grinned again, looking very at ease, as he watched her open her drink, "Now that we're both here should we take a seat and talk?" He gestured to the couch behind her in the living room.

She had had enough. Marching away from him, she made her way towards the couch. It was perhaps the clearest surface in the room, if only because it was the place she used the most. Tossing aside the few magazines and jumpers strewn across it, she gestured sharply, "Please, would you like to take a seat?"

Instead of the abashed look she had hoped for Remus gave an insolent smirk, "Why of course, thank you."

She stayed standing next to the couch as he made his way over, unable to figure out just what was going on. Remus had never been this open and at ease around her before. She had to admit she was intrigued, though, if he offered her anything else out of her own kitchen, she would give him a good smack somewhere other than his rear.

As he settled down on the seat she had indicated and she could find little to do but sit down behind him.

Once she had settled in he cleared his throat, "So, I suppose we should start at the beginning." Tonks swore she could see a tiny hint of red in his cheeks, "What on earth possessed you to, um, attempt to…" Confident Remus was suddenly gone as, being unable to express his question, he mimed the action into the air between them.

She shot forward in her seat, "No, no, no sir. That was not at all the beginning." She swiveled to face him fully, "In fact, what 'prompted' _that_," she mimed the action herself, "was when you…." She stopped; suddenly uncertain, she had never tried to really put into words what she had felt happened that evening at the Burrow.

_Just dive in. _

"You touched my hip." She grimaced.

_Well maybe I could have phrased that better._

At least it got his attention. "Your hip, Tonks? What are you talking about?" He sounded genuinely confused.

"At the Burrow, a few nights ago. We were at the table, you reached by me to get the mustard and you brushed your hand along my hip. It was pretty obvious." At his silence she huffed, "I'm not making this up."

_Or am I? _Tonks suddenly felt a sinking in her stomach. She had been so certain that he had planned that moment at the Burrow. If he hadn't meant anything by it… She couldn't let herself consider how embarrassed that would make her.

"Well," he placed his drink in one of the few clear places on her coffee table, "I'm sure you're not." He stood, "Maybe we should recreate the moment you're mentioning, to make sure we're on the same page."

Tonks felt her face screw up into a disbelieving expression, "What are you talking about?" She took a sip of her drink, trying to hide her disappointment, "If you don't remember, then I don't think…"

His hand closed around her wrist, "No, please, lets jog my memory." He pulled her to her feet, somehow managing to keep her from falling right back down, and turned her until she was facing away from him. "So, we were at the table," he moved in closer, "and I was reaching for…" He paused inches away from her neck, "the mustard you say?"

_Breathe in first, Tonks. _"Yes, the mustard."

"Right, then" She felt his hand hover next to her hip, "And you said my hand brushed across…" Tonks felt a pleasurable tingle as his hand slid across her hip as it had a few nights before, "here?"

"That, um, feels about right, yes." She focused on keeping her hand securely around the neck of her drink.

His hand stopped, stretched right past her hip, "And then?" His body was inches away from being pressed up against hers. It took a lot of her minimum self-control to keep from leaning back.

"Well, nothing. You pulled your hand back." She fought from giving an audible sound of disappointment when she felt him follow direction and pull his hand away. Steadying herself with a deep breath she turned to face him.

His face was nearly unreadable. _Frustrating git._

"And this encouraged you to slap my rear, why?"

"I thought you were…" Suddenly, she felt a flare up of anger; one she knew was only driven by embarrassment, though that knowledge didn't diminish it in the least. The arm holding her drink flung open, nearly spilling the contents all over her couch, "Bugger it, Remus! If you weren't flirting with me you could have just tapped me on the shoulder to get me to move over!"

He scooted a little to the side to try to avoid the flinging of her Butterbeer, "Ah, so touching you on the hip indicated I was flirting."

Her blood pressure was rising, "I would say so, Remus. It's a pretty intimate place to touch." She moved away from him towards the table at the end of her couch, taking a moment to safely put her drink down. To her relief having some distance helped calm her, and when she turned back she was moderately confident the blazing heat had faded from her cheeks, "I just mean that next time, if you don't want to send the…" she paused, trying to keep the dejection out of her voice, "the wrong message, get my attention the normal way. Just tap me on the shoulder or say _'excuse me', _for Merlin's sake."

A thoughtful look crossed his face as he stepped towards her, closing the distance she had just created. "So, you're saying a hand on your shoulder would be a more appropriate way to get your attention? A non-intimate place?" He raised his hand and slowly reached it towards her, laying it gently against the crook where her neck and shoulder met.

She swore she felt her heart stutter a little as his warm hand lingered there before trailing over her shoulder and down her upper arm.

"Am I sending the wrong message now?" He gave an impish grin, one she wasn't sure she had seen on him before.

A deep swallow, "That depends on what message you were trying for." She was suddenly extremely glad she had put her drink down, "That's not the way I would expect Mad-Eye to tap…"

He huffed, "If you are thinking anything about Mad-Eye Moody, I am definitely not sending the right message." Ignoring her increasingly confused expression, he stepped in even closer, "So, lets try another plan; decide if it's the right message. I want to make sure we're in agreement in the future."

He turned her away from him again and leaned in close, placing his mouth just next to her ear, though the rest of his body didn't touch hers at all, much to her increasing disappointment.

"So if I just say 'excuse me'?" She almost lost the words as his warm breath ran across her neck and cheek, "That's better?"

She turned her face a fraction of the way towards his, starting to desperately hope he would actually close the distance, "Not when you say it like that.'"

He pulled back, turning her to face him again, a look of mock consternation marring his features, "Well, this is complicated indeed. Maybe we should start over."

He took his hand and formed it around her left hip, "So hip touching we've decided is 'flirting'—am I correct?" She managed to nod silently in agreement. His hand slid around so it was firmly against her lower back, "What about here?" He pulled her in tight.

It took most of her fleeting conscience thought to form a response, "I would say this is pretty flirtatious, Remus."

"Ah, interesting." His other hand rose to rest on her shoulder, "And we were unsure about the message this sent." She nodded again as his hand began to move to cup the back of her neck, fingers reaching into her hair, "And now?"

She tried hard to ignore the pleasant sensation of his fingers gently teasing her hair or the warmth of his hand though her t-shirt, "I would say I was wrong, the hip isn't the only intimate way you could get my attention."

"That is good news indeed." He made no move to pull away this time, "Because I find that, despite my better judgment, I hope to get your attention many, many times. And not necessarily appropriately."

Tonks was sure her heart stuttered this time. She had never been good at these moments but even more so than at the Burrow, she knew that another monumental change had just occurred between them. Yet, with such close quarters and body heat, she found she could form nothing more eloquent than, "Really?"

His eyes crinkled as he smiled, "Yes, and despite the reserved image I portray, I really am a man that prides himself on creativity."

The kiss that followed proved that creativity ten-fold.

Several moments later he placed one more, soft kiss as he pulled back far enough to see her face. He paused to study it a long moment.

"Hm." He sounded thoughtful, "I believe this is twice now I've rendered you speechless. So that would be two for me, and maybe a half for you." He looked pleased, "Therefore, I win."

That jarred her from her pleasantly shocked stupor, "What?" She placed her hands against his chest and pushed back, though not far enough to break the new, and thoroughly enjoyable, embrace, "What are you talking about?"

He chuckled, "Well, at the Burrow you seemed to have quite some difficulty forming an answer for Molly and tonight I don't think you've managed more than a brief sentence. That counts as speechless for you." He ignored her huff, "And it's only a half for you because, while I will admit you threw me through a loop at the end this evening, I believe you were equally flustered after Arthur interrupted your first attempt in the hallway."

"So, you knew what I was talking about all along." She scowled, "You _were_ trying to get me flustered. This was all a game…"

The playful desire she saw in his eyes stopped her annoyance at being bested, "Not a game." He interrupted her gently, leaning in to kiss her again "Simply, as I am a man who enjoys creativity," he smiled, "I also am a man with penchant for mischief."

* * *

Curling her legs underneath her in the overstuffed armchair, Nymphadora Tonks peered up slightly from the magazine she held open in her lap. Across the small table between the chairs, Remus seemed overly engrossed in his novel. A glance to her left proved even Sirius seemed invested in the Muggle magazine on motorcycles that Arthur had brought him the night before.

It was quiet. It was boring. It was perfect timing.

"Remus, would you be offended if I ever laughed while we were shagging? I mean, not _at _you, of course, but if something funny happened?"

The desired effect occurred immediately, Remus' eyebrows drew together in a baffled expression that she had come to know well. Sirius tensed immediately, sensing something much more exciting brewing than an evening reading in the headquarter library. A long, speechless moment passed.

"Finally, we can stop this damn reading." Sirius, the best at breaking silences, threw his magazine on the table.

"I thought you were enjoying that." She knew Remus was stalling for time to figure out what she was up to; she could tell in the careful, level tone in his voice.

"It'll be there tomorrow."

Still trying to avoid her original question, Remus sighed deeply, "What on earth are you reading over there?"

"Don't avoid the question." She let the corners of her mouth turn up in a wicked little grin, "Would you be offended? These are things we should know about each other."

"Why on earth do you need to know "those things" about each other, its not like you two are…" Suddenly Sirius broke off, his head slowly moving from one chair to another, "_Are _you two shagging?"

No one but Tonks would be able to see the reddening of Remus' cheeks as he carefully replaced his bookmark and closed his book, "Well, Sirius, not that its any of your business…"

"We are." Anyone would be able to see the red in his cheeks now.

Almost already out of his chair in shock, Sirius shot out his chair at that and headed for the door, "This calls for some Firewhiskey! I'll be right back and we'll toast to you, Moony!" He ducked out the door, before reappearing a moment later, "And to you, Tonks."

At that he flew back into the hallway. The moment her cousin was gone Remus sent Tonks a reproachful look, "You know I will never hear the end of this, don't you?"

Her little grin grew wider, "Of course not. But then again, you aren't the only one with a 'penchant for mischief'." She winked, reaching to pick back up her magazine, "I win."


End file.
